


speak the language of love like you know what it means

by zach_stone



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Established Relationship, Haircuts, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zach_stone/pseuds/zach_stone
Summary: Eddie’s mouth quirks in that funny way it does when he’s trying not to smile, usually when Richie’s reminded Eddie of something he likes. His dimples betray him, as always. Eddie’s not nearly the closed book he likes to think he is. Not for Richie. “I don’t meancutit, I just mean, like, a trim. You’ve got serious split ends right now, don’t you ever use conditioner?”“I use bar soap,” Richie lies, just to see Eddie’s eyebrows get all furrowed and scowly. “I’mkidding.”“Let me cut your hair,” Eddie says.--Or, Eddie gives Richie a haircut, and Richie reflects on intimacy.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 50
Kudos: 476





	speak the language of love like you know what it means

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaspbrak_kid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaspbrak_kid/gifts), [nuvvanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuvvanda/gifts), [tozierrichie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tozierrichie/gifts), [eddiespaghetti (foxwatson)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxwatson/gifts).



> this is dedicated to my dear friends becca, paige, fox, and gillian, who sent me the following prompts: cuddling/hugging/extended nonsexual touching, sharing secrets/intimate conversations, shaving/bathing/taking care of hygiene in a shared space, playing with hair
> 
> and i combined all of that, loosely, into this here incredibly corny fic! hope u guys enjoy!! <3

Before they got together, Richie wouldn’t have pegged Eddie as a cuddler. Sure, they’d always been touchy with each other, growing up, and even as adults Richie found himself grabbing Eddie’s wrist or shoving Eddie behind him to protect him — but Richie'd just assumed that was a _him_ thing, since he always initiated it. Now, though, six months into their relationship, he’s discovered that Eddie is downright _clingy._ He fucking loves it. He’s never really had someone to cuddle before, which is a sad enough sentence that he has yet to voice it aloud. The guys he fooled around with before, they weren’t the type to stick around and snuggle. Not that Richie probably would’ve let them back then.

All this to say, Eddie’s being particularly cuddly early one Sunday morning, the two of them tangled up in the sheets together, having only woken up half an hour ago. Richie’s due to be out of town for a week for a talk show circuit, and his flight leaves later tonight. They don’t have any plans for the day, content to just be in each other’s company until Eddie has to drop Richie off at the airport. 

As much as Richie likes that he’s big enough to wrap Eddie up entirely in his arms, he likes just as much when Eddie wants to hold him. And it turns out that’s often — right now, Eddie’s propped up against a couple pillows with Richie’s head resting against his chest. Richie’s hand trails up and down Eddie’s side, feeling the notches of his ribs under the muscle and the soft sleep shirt he’s wearing. Eddie’s hand is in Richie’s hair, his fingers pressing in a soothing motion on Richie’s scalp. Eddie’s neat, blunt nails scratch over the crown of Richie’s head. A pleasant shiver moves lazily down Richie’s spine. Eddie has nice hands — long fingers, dextrous and always in motion. Eddie doesn’t often use his hands in a gentle way like this, and Richie feels all too lucky that he gets to experience it. 

Eddie stops giving Richie an impromptu scalp massage and starts finger-combing through his curls instead. It’s nice, and Richie hums, his eyes closed and his cheek over Eddie’s heart, listening to the steady, reassuring beat. 

The silence is broken when Eddie takes a lock of Richie’s hair between his fingers and says, “I think you need a haircut.”

Richie shifts, opening his eyes to squint at Eddie. “I like my hair like this.  _ You  _ like my hair like this.” Eddie has made that  _ abundantly  _ clear in recent months. 

Eddie’s mouth quirks in that funny way it does when he’s trying not to smile, usually when Richie’s reminded Eddie of something he likes. His dimples betray him, as always. Eddie’s not nearly the closed book he likes to think he is. Not for Richie. “I don’t mean  _ cut  _ it, I just mean, like, a trim. You’ve got serious split ends right now, don’t you ever use conditioner?”

“I use bar soap,” Richie lies, just to see Eddie’s eyebrows get all furrowed and scowly. “I’m  _ kidding.” _

“Let me cut your hair,” Eddie says.

Richie blinks at him. “You… want to cut my hair?” he repeats. Eddie nods. He’s still got Richie’s hair between his fingers, rubbing the ends between his forefinger and thumb. “I mean I guess I can go to a salon later or something —”

“No,” Eddie says insistently. “I — I want to do it.”

“Eds,” Richie says, shifting so he’s up on an elbow, facing Eddie properly. Eddie’s hand slides out of his hair at last. “Do you even know  _ how  _ to cut hair?”

“I gave myself haircuts in undergrad,” Eddie says. “Back when I was a broke college kid and my hair was like —” He gestures somewhere around his chin. Richie’s seen Eddie’s college pictures, and he’s delightfully well aware of when Eddie’s hair was longer and hung in his eyes. 

“Were you  _ good?”  _ Richie asks.

Eddie grins, his eyes crinkling with it, the tip of his tongue between his teeth. “Fuck no, I was awful, you kidding me?” he says, laughing. “But it’s fine, you’ve got, like, waves, so if it’s a little uneven it won’t show. Probably.”

Richie cracks up. “You’re inspiring so much confidence here, Eds,” he says. 

As their shared laughter dies down, Eddie looks earnest again. “C’mon, Rich. Let me do this for you.”

Richie takes a moment to really imagine it — Eddie’s hands in his hair again, so focused and concentrated, and all for Richie’s benefit. And he really seems to  _ want  _ to. It’s… nice. To have someone want to do something like that for him. He smiles, not teasing but fond. “You really want to?”

“Yeah.” Eddie reaches out to fluff up Richie’s hair a little bit, and Richie leans into the touch like a needy cat. 

“Well alright then, let’s do this thing,” Richie says. He sits up all the way, twisting a little to stretch. “Where do you want me?”

“Bathroom’s probably best,” Eddie says. He slips out of the bed and heads to the kitchen to grab a dining chair and a pair of scissors. 

Richie hums “shave and a haircut, two bits” as he walks into the bathroom and drops into the seat that Eddie’s placed in front of the sink. He meets Eddie’s eyes in the mirror and smirks. “You gonna shave me too, Eds?” he asks.

Eddie cups Richie’s jaw with one hand, scratching lightly at his stubble. “Nah. I like you scruffy.”

Richie’s smile goes from smug to flustered, and he leans into Eddie’s touch again. “Mm, I knew all that bitching about beard burn was bullshit.” 

Eddie flicks him in the temple as he moves his hand away, leaning around Richie to run water over the comb before he gets to work detangling Richie’s hair. He’s not being as gentle as he was when he was finger-combing Richie’s hair earlier, so it kind of hurts, but it’s worth it to be able to watch Eddie’s face in the mirror, brow furrowed in concentration and his tongue poking out of his mouth. It’s not that Richie doesn’t get to unabashedly look at Eddie pretty much whenever he wants nowadays, but he still appreciates the excuse to just watch him, fondness filling his chest like helium. 

“Okay,” Eddie says, setting the comb down. He picks up the kitchen scissors from their spot on the edge of the sink. “Ready?”

“Shear me, Spaghetti Man.” Struck by a sudden thought, Richie laughs. “Man, if you fuck me up right before a bunch of TV interviews, Carrie’s gonna kill you,” he says, referring to his stylist.

“Carrie loves me,” Eddie says. “She knows I’m the only reason you use moisturizer now. She’ll forgive me.” He makes a snipping motion in the air with the scissors. “Anyway, I’m not  _ going  _ to fuck you up. Stay still.”

“Yes  _ sir,”  _ Richie teases. He sits up straight, watching in the mirror as Eddie gently tips Richie’s head the way he wants it, and then uses his fingers to portion off a section of Richie’s hair. He’s really only trimming off the ends, and Richie watches as the scissors cut through and the clippings fall to the bathroom floor. Eddie hums to himself and moves to the next chunk of hair. 

It’s incredibly relaxing — the sound of the scissors, Eddie’s tuneless humming melody, the careful way Eddie’s separating sections of Richie’s hair to trim and the light pressure of his hands as he tilts Richie’s head forward or to the side. Richie lets his eyes fall closed, feeling a drowsy sort of pleasure tingle down from the top of his scalp. He sighs a little, his body loosening against the chair.

After a couple minutes, the scissors stop, and Richie feels Eddie just sort of petting his head instead. He blinks his eyes open and sees that Eddie’s watching  _ him  _ in the mirror now, something serious in those big, dark eyes of his. 

“You know, I — I’ve never done this before,” Eddie says haltingly.

“What, cut someone’s hair?”

“No, I mean — well, I haven’t done that either, I just mean. Growing up and in my last relationship, I was always the one being cared for, right, but it wasn’t in a… a healthy way. And now, you know, I want to take care of you, but. But I feel like I never learned how to do it right.” Eddie’s not looking at him anymore, just staring down at the top of Richie’s head. “Not that you need me to  _ take care of  _ you, I just mean. I want to, to care for you. I want to be good to you. I’m just worried I’m doing it wrong.” 

Richie’s heart aches just listening to him, the quiet, anxious way he’s speaking. Reaching up behind him, Richie gently takes the hand Eddie has in his hair and tugs it down to lace their fingers together instead. He watches Eddie’s face in the mirror, squeezes Eddie’s fingers until he finally meets his eyes again. 

“I’ve never really had something like this either,” Richie says. He smiles slightly. “So maybe I’m not an expert but from where I’m standing, you’re doing it right, Eds. I mean, I never even had someone who wanted to fucking cuddle up to me, let alone something like this —”

“What?” Eddie interjects, his brow creasing with something like confusion. “You’re telling me you didn’t cuddle before we got together? How is that even possible, you love that shit.”

“Yeah, with  _ you,”  _ Richie says. 

Eddie’s expression shutters somewhat. “Are you saying you — you’re only doing it for my benefit, because I don’t want you to feel like you have to —”

“Oh my god,” Richie says, cutting him off. He drops his head and laughs. “Jesus, no, Eddie, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying I didn’t want to bask in the afterglow with my hookups because I was fucking ashamed, dude. And it’s different now,  _ obviously,  _ I feel like I should be the one surprised that  _ you  _ like to get all touchy-feely.” 

Eddie’s cheeks flush a warm, embarrassed pink, and Richie wishes they were facing each other so he could pull him down into a kiss. He presses a reassuring kiss to the back of Eddie’s hand instead, which only makes Eddie blush harder. “I do like it,” Eddie mumbles. “I like a lot of things with you, Rich. I’m trying not to… fucking overthink everything I do. Just wanna do nice things for you.”

And maybe it’s silly to feel so emotional over that, but Richie can’t help it — there was a not-insignificant portion of his life where he felt entirely certain that no one would ever want to do nice things for him, that he didn’t  _ deserve  _ someone who wanted to be sweet to him. Richie hasn’t had a lot of experience with this kind of love. And, as this whole conversation is really starting to drive home, Eddie hasn’t either. 

Eddie disentangles their clasped hands so he can stroke Richie’s hair again, and then leans in to kiss the crown of Richie’s head, lingering. Then he straightens up again, sighing. “Okay. This just got way off the rails. Sorry.”

“That’s just part of the quality service you got here,” Richie says. “Each haircut comes with an intermission to have a therapy session!” 

Eddie cuffs him lightly on the back of the head. “Shut up, oh my god. I’m starting again, quit laughing or I’m gonna stab you in the neck.”

“Okay, okay,” Richie says, biting his tongue until his snickers subside. The steady, soothing sound of the scissors returns, and Eddie finishes up the rest of his trimming without incident.

Richie thinks Eddie’s done, but then Eddie taps him on the top of the head. “Lean back a little?” he says. Richie does and Eddie says, “No, more,” so Richie really tips his head back until he’s looking directly up Eddie’s nose. Eddie leans in and kisses him, clumsy and basically upside down. Richie makes a pleased sound against Eddie’s lips.

“All done?” Richie asks when Eddie pulls back. “How does it look?”

“See for yourself,” Eddie says, nudging him to lift his head back up. Richie does, and Eddie puts a hand on Richie’s shoulder, and they look at Richie’s hair in the mirror together.

It really doesn’t look much different from before Eddie trimmed it, though Richie supposes he can tell that the ends don’t look as dead, or something. This isn’t the sort of thing he’s ever really thought about, honestly. It doesn’t look wildly uneven, though, so he’s going to count  _ that  _ as a win.

“Not too bad, Eds, not too bad at all,” Richie says. “Might as well quit your job, open a salon.”

Eddie scoffs, amused, and hooks his arms around Richie from behind so he can tuck Richie’s head under his chin. It’s a reversal of the way they usually hold each other like this, and Richie finds that he likes it a lot. He leans back against Eddie’s chest, and for a moment they just smile at each other in the mirror, swaying very slightly back and forth.

“Okay,” Eddie says finally, pulling away. “You gotta shower to get all that hair off you, and I have to get all the rest of it off the fucking floor.”

“The floor can wait,” Richie says, standing up and putting on his best pleading face. His can’t even begin to compare to Eddie’s but he gives it a shot. “Shower with me. I’ll wash your hair.”

“Is that my payment?” Eddie asks, biting his lip to hide his obvious smile.

“Whatever you want, Eddie baby,” Richie says, and he means it. 

Eddie must be able to hear the sincerity in his voice, because he finally relents and lets himself smile all the way. Richie almost doesn’t know what to do when Eddie looks at him like that, when he’s so fucking happy and Richie is the cause. It makes Richie feel warm all over, and he’s abruptly and intensely grateful to be able to have these moments of intimacy with Eddie, a kind of intimacy he never even realized he wanted before.

“Thanks, Eds, seriously,” Richie says, and he hopes Eddie knows he doesn’t just mean for the haircut.

Eddie smiles, because he does know, of course he knows. “Anytime, Rich.”

**Author's Note:**

> title from "simply the best" by tina turner, but specifically i'm thinking of the noah reid version. 
> 
> find me on twitter @hermanngottiieb


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